Fulfilling a Vow
by spytel
Summary: A Scathach's way of dealing with betrayal.


Sir Veric ap Scathach sat back against the railing of the battlements, the moon casting his shadow evenly over the gardens vast fountain. He took a low drag of his cigarette the light from the burning embers illuminating his dangerous look from behind his black hair as the wind brushed it on his shoulder blades. There was no joy or hate in his deep topaz eyes, only a stony gaze that refused to move. Slowly he rubbed the uneven stubble on his chin almost as if in thought.

The creak of a dry joint quietly interrupted his solitude as a figure looming twice the size of any normal man stepped out. The wired sapphire skin of Veric's closest friend Bill stepped from the door, standing high and gazing at the object of the sidhe's negativity.

"So it was true." The bass voice of Bill resonated in Verics ears.

Veric blinked slowly, his face betraying nothing, and said in a steady voice. "Are you really suprised?" The words were light and soft, and contained a hint of anger that was teetering beneath the surface.

At the end of his gaze stood the beautiful gardens of Erat Vindas, there in the center being fed from every direction a fountain stood alive beneath it's beauty two young lovers eyes within each other stood basking in the affection of their partner, to them nothing else existed.

"She played you didn't she?" Bills resonating tone made the bitter man next to him shake his head in disgust. No answer was needed.

A comforting shoulder placed itself on Veric's shoulder.

"We have to go honor the age old tradition, it's the only thing that can be reasonably done in such a situation." The Trolls sincere voice brought up the dark haired mans eyes and attention.

"And what tradition would that be?" Veric's voice seemed humored, but Bill knew better than to take it so.

"The one that all men do at one point in their lives or another." The gigantic blue man looked down into his best friends eyes. "We go to O'Hares and try to replace our blood with Alcohol."

Veric pulled the nearly finished cigarette from his lips and flicked it over the edge of the battlements, not even bother to hear if it hissed as it extinguished itself in the flawless fountain.

"Fuck her. Let's go." The much shorter man walked past his best friend, ready to accomplish a quest of great importance.

-------------------------------------------------

As all men know, a night of drinking with ones friends can be therapeutic, just as the throbbing headache afterward can make a resolution form to swear off the ingestion of an alcoholic beverage ever again, it usually doesn't last that long, but it's sworn anyways.

He groaned slightly as light poured through the lacey curtains of the bedroom window. He put the soft feather pillow over his face and groaned loudly into it. And suddenly stopped.

Feather pillow?

Lacey curtains... curtains?

The soft moan to his right brought him even more fear. That's right, the last part of the age old tradition. Hope you don't wake up next to something you never want to see again.

Slowly almost painfully as to not draw awareness he withdrew the soft pillow from his face, taking note of the silken texture and lace.

The first thing he saw was strands of rose cut like thread as their bloodlike color slowly stretched down the back of a pale skinned figure. 'Well at least she won't roll over and crush me. Veric noticed thanking whatever gods out there that may be out there watching after him. 'Now time to get out.'

Ignoring the blinding pain that assaulted his brain he slowly slid away under the smooth silken sheets. 'Almost there.'

He was unfortunate this day. As the sleeping goddess rolled over onto his chest and opened her lashes slowly. In one moment Sir Veric ap Scathach felt surprise, terror, and in the corner of his mind a great boost to his ego.

He was paralyzed unknowing what to do. The ruby serpentine eye's blinked sleepily at the night, as the crimson lips of this predator smiled. The Scathach immediately cursed whatever gods that may be looking over him.

He had just slept with one of the most powerful Sidhe for hundreds of miles around. One who made Dukes wary, Counts cautious, and Barons Tremble. The Princess of Rose and Thorn, Lady Eiselrose Delarium of the house Balor.


End file.
